Tears to Shed
by coralvortex
Summary: After Florence gets rejected from college she decides to move away from her parents. Then she meets Paul and lives happily ever after... at least in theory, but life isn't that black and white. PaulxOC / Imprinting story / M for language
1. Pilot

Pilot

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><p><strong>AN: I won't try to make a habit of leaving author notes but I figured that this is a necessary introductory one. This is a pilot; if the reaction is good then I will be adding to this story. If all goes well, I plan on making this story 50k words—hopefully. The first few chapters may be inadequate, but I have tons of ideas for this. I'm so excited about this fanfic though, I can't wait to get farther into this! I won't be using Paul's POV that often, so if I don't state Paul's POV then it's the OC'sFlorence's POV. Also** **I'm probably going to begin each chapter with a quote to set the tone and hint at what will happen.**

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><p><strong><em><span>TRIGGER WARNING:<span>_** Abuse in following chapter (pilot/chapter 1)

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><p><em>"It's about the bullshit they've been feeding us since preschool: Do your homework, be good, fall in line, do what we say and maybe if you're lucky, you'll get the golden ticket. We're supposed to act like the only thing that matter is getting into college…and what about the people that don't get in? The ones who let some stupid letter from some stupid school tell them what they're worth as a person. Harvard says they're nothing and they believe it."<em>

_—Hacking Harvard_

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><p>Like every lamb going to slaughter, I was utterly unnoticing of the impending doom that waited before me. I woke up optimistically early that day. I knew that Harvard had posted online who was getting in to their school and I was going to be on that list. I could wait until the admissions letter arrived in the mail, but I was too excited. I rolled out of bed and shivered from the cool April air. I must have forgotten to shut the window last night; it wouldn't be the first time. After slamming the window shut I jumped over a pile of dirty clothes and bounded towards my computer and log on. Waiting for the computer to load, I spun around in my spiny office chair in giddy anticipation. My hands shook as I wait to the Harvard website I checked the status by my name, "rejected".<p>

My life was over. All of those years of straight A's, studying, the endless amount of boring club meetings, wasted! I lived so close to Harvard that I had spent my life driving past Harvard, thinking that one day I would go there. That I was going to be great. I wanted to go to that school more than anyone else. My parents want—no expect me to go. No other form of education could compare to what I would get at Harvard, but now I was going to be stuck working at a fast-food restaurant for the rest of my life; it's not like I can go to a different college. Harvard was my first and only choice, I didn't apply anywhere else I didn't think it would be necessary.

Suddenly my phone rang out and I realized I had a huge headache. How long had I be sitting here, staring at the computer? I sighed, flopping off my chair, on to the floor, and dragged myself to my cell phone that had fallen on the floor at some point during my morning escapade. I picked it up without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?" I mumbled in the phone.

"Guess who's going to Harvard with you!" a high pitch voice screeched back to me. I pulled the phone away from my ear and check the caller ID; it was Becky. Becky and I had exchanged phone numbers when we got assigned a group project together back in freshmen year. After the project Becky had, and still does, text me nonstop and I think we're friends now. She must have heard me talking about where I was applying when I asked the consoler to send my SAT score there, because I don't remember ever mentioning it to her.

"Who?" I humored her. I really didn't want know anything about that college ever again.

"Me silly!" She responded with an overabundance of enthusiasm. "I can't wait! Do you want to be my roommate? We can get a pet fish and—"

I cut her off. "Listen, why don't we talk about this later, during study hall? I just have a ton of homework that I need to get done for tomorrow." It was a Sunday morning after all, so I technically wasn't lying; I did have a bunch of homework, I just wasn't going to do it yet wallowing in self-pity comes first.

"Oh, okay! Don't be a stranger! Call me back if you get a chance, I feel like we hardly ever talk anymore!" and with that she hung up.

Now I must focus at the problem at hand. My parents expected me to be going to college at the end of summer. They expected me to go to one, Harvard or not. My mom will have a field day if she finds out that I didn't sign up for a college other than Harvard, she had warned me not to be so cocky. I couldn't let her win.

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><p>"What do you mean, you're going to a different college?" my dad lectures me from the other side of the dinner table. I glanced at my mom and she was nodding along with everything he was saying. The (rejection) letter had arrived today and I panicked, I told them Harvard accepted me. Then once we sat down at the table for dinner my mom started talking about how she can wait to move me into the Harvard dorms. And I said that I was thinking about different college options.<p>

"Well, I'm not set in stone on anything but—" I quickly backpedaled "I'm just keeping my eyes peeled for better opportunities." My mom glared at me. I had tried to put glitter on shit, but it seems that the smell ruined the façade.

"Harvard is the best opportunity you have for making yourself not useless!" my mom retorted. Ouch.

"Look, I'm not saying that I'm not going to college," Lie, "or that I'm completely ignoring the chance I have at Harvard," Huge lie, "I just…" I pause trying to think of something, anything to say, "I... want more… more meaning to what I'm doing. I don't want to do something for the sake of the action. I want it to have significance. I want my actions to carry more meaning than having economic, scholarly, or social value." Actually that part was true; it just took voicing it to realize that.

"Honey," my mom started softly, then her eyes turned cold, "that is the dumbest thing you have ever said." I froze in my chair. I gnaw on the inside of my cheeks to refrain from reacting to her words. I knew how this worked; she wanted to ruffle my feathers.

My dad cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I'm going to do some paper work." With that he moved his chair back, which in return screeched in protest. Then he lead over my mom, kissed her forehead, whispered something in her ear, and shot me a rude glance; traitor.

Once dad left, the mom and I ate in silence, half because of my apprehension of being vulnerable and truthful with my mom, the other half because my mother was seething in a wrath of biblical proportions. Finally mom broke the silence by getting up from the table. "Lore, be a sweet heart and clear the table." With that she turned to walk out of the room. I only dared to look up at her when her footsteps stopped. She had turned back and was watching me carefully, her eyes showed the venomous rage that was stored up. "Oh, and Florence we will talk about this later. You will not be allowed to through your future away." With that she exited the room. I sighed. I could taste blood and realized that in the midst of that tension filled confrontation, I had chewed quiet an impressive gash in my cheek.

Absentmindedly I cleared the table. I am too focused on finding an excuse not to go to Harvard. My head played with different things I could tell my parents to excuse my absence at Harvard, all of which sucked. This is probably why I was rejected.

I heard shouting up stairs and stopped loading the dish washer so I could hear them better.

"This is your fault she's like this!" My mom's muffled voice rang out. I don't even think she was trying to hide this conversation.

"I doubt that this is my fault. Where do you think her smarts even came from? News flash: It's my side of the family that is smart." Dad's voice boomed out above moms. I couldn't help but feel a little anger with my dad for speaking to her that way. My mom could be mean to me but she was still my mom.

"Fine mister 'genius', talk to your daughter. People who are arrogant and ignorant tend to speak their own language anyway." Mom's voice was a little quieter, making it harder to hear but it was still filled with anger.

I sighed not really wanting to hear the argument anymore. I quickly put the rest of the dishes in the dish washer and hurried to my room where I found my dad, looking at my rejection letter from Harvard.

I froze in the door way. _Shit. _I forgot to hide that. I wanted to keep it to remind myself, now I really regret that decision. I'm so stupid.

"So," his voice was quiet and he kept his eyes trained on the letter. "When were you going to tell us the truth?"

"I didn't—" I started, but he cut me off.

"You didn't even think that far ahead did you?" His voice had this sharp edge that sounded familiar like an old dream—no like an old nightmare that has stuck in your head for years but you can't really remember the details anymore. I stiffen and feel my heart beat go faster as fear consumes me.

I turned and shut the door hoping mom hasn't heard us. "Listen dad, I'm sor—" he cut me off again.

"Did you even plan on going to college? Did you apply anywhere else?" He turned to face me. His face was red and he was consumed with anger. One hand was in a tight fist crushing the letter in its grasp. The other pointed at me accusingly.

"I- I—" I started; my voice was cracking from the lump in my throat.

"Your mother and I have worked very hard to give you opportunities that we never had at your age. Do you even try? No. You don't. You sit on your ass and waste your life."

Suddenly he was moving towards me. His hand moved up and he smacked me, hard. No, this was all wrong. He hasn't hit me since Middle School. My ears were ringing as I held the spot he hit, my face was throbbing. The back of my head hurt and I realized that the force of his hit had knocked me down; I must have hit my head. I glance up at him just as his foot connected to my stomach. I coughed and gasped trying to get air back into my lungs. His foot struck my stomach a few my times then he stormed out of my room, he slammed the door causing my mirror to fall and break.

I spent the rest of the evening on the floor sobbing; in the same spot dad had left me. After a while I couldn't cry anymore. Staring at myself in the broken shatter mirror and thought about myself. And realized that I had my own bank account filled with tuition money and I'm eighteen. I could leave any minute and my parents couldn't do anything. I could use the computer to look for somewhere far away from here, but then mom and dad could check my history and find me. I glanced up at the clock, 1 am. I groaned and pulled myself up; my body ached and fought against me. I had school tomorrow or rather today. I had to study for my History Class, which ironically we were going to have a test on present day Native American reservations, very historic and not present day at all. Suddenly an idea springs to mind. I'm going to go far away from home.

Once I narrow down the reservations to the farthest away, I took into consideration my preferences. I want ravens and snow. I grab my bird watching book from my book shelf and find the page with the migration patterns and locations of birds, find ravens, and mark each reservation with the ravens. Out of all of the places La Push in Washington is most likely to have the most snow fall. I've always liked forests. It's decided, I will start my day like normal, pretend to go to school, and leave for good.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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><p><em>[She] knows the secret of leaving, the secret I have only just now learned: leaving feels good and pure only when you leave something important, something that mattered to you. Pulling life out by the roots. But you can't do that until your life has grown roots.<em>

_—Paper Towns-By: John Green_

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><p>I woke up sore. My body aches and I realize that I never checked the damage from my dad. I lift up my shirt and my stomach is bruised black and blue. My face is bruised as well but I can always cover it up with makeup. Getting ready was painful but I managed.<p>

As I finally went down stairs with my backpack, I came face to face with my somber looking dad. "I'm sorry for acting the way I did; it wasn't an appropriate response for the situation. You just frustrated me and I blew a fuse. Nobody's perfect and I need to work on being level headed." He said. I couldn't help but notice that he didn't say what he did wrong or that it was wrong. On top of that he tried to move the blame on to me. Anger bubbled up but I had to keep control of this situation.

"It's alright." I said with a forced smile. This was going to be the last time I would ever see him, why not just give him what he wanted. "I was out of turn. I deserved some harsh logic."

All I got was a nod and then he was moving on to a different topic. "Listen," dad said dropping his voice. "I have some friends on the administrations board at Harvard. I think I could get you in. Let's just keep this between ourselves though." That's code for don't tell mom.

I nod. "Thank you dad, I have to get to school." I needed to get out of here as soon as possible because once I don't show up to school they will call home to see where I am. I pause at the door and add "Tell mom that I love her." I said it with an undertone of steely resolve. I couldn't help but leave that double meaning as the last thing my parents would hear from me.

Before he could respond, I shut the door and started walking towards the bank. After five minutes I reached the bus stop (where I would normally be stopping at so I could get on a bus for school,) and then something happened that I never took into account: Becky.

"Flo, Hey!" Becky's voice called above the rumble of cars. This cannot be happening; I'm in a crunch for time!

"Hey Becky! I'm actually going to be right back. I need to pick up something from the bank." I almost added that I needed to hurry, but something tells me I would have to spend even more time talking to her in order to explain why I need to hurry.

"Oh, can I come with?" Becky asked.

"I'm actually going to get a ride from my mom to school; she's going to pick me up from the bank and drive me."

"Why are you going to the bank anyway? Couldn't you go after school?" Becky needs to stop thinking of good retorts.

"I need to check on how much money I have in my saving account for Harvard." I say after a beat.

"Okay." Becky said in a disappointed voice. "Bye."

"Bye, Becky," I said. Suddenly with an urge to be kind I said, "I don't really say this that often but you're my best friend." The look on Becky's face flipped and she looked like she had won the lottery. I couldn't help but grin back at her.

"Thank you!" she squealed, "Oh, I'm holding you up aren't I? You better get going." Becky said then she walked back to the bus stop and sat next to her friends.

I felt kind of sick to my stomach about leaving. I had my 'new' friendship with Becky and dad said he could get me into Harvard. Is leaving really worth it? Better yet, is staying worth it? I would be getting into Harvard, but unfairly. For everyone who got in unfairly, someone who deserves to get in wouldn't be able to. As for Becky, she has other friends, she doesn't need me. So with a heavy heart I continue to walk to the bank.

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><p>After withdrawing the money, I walked to the train station and found a train that would take me to Chicago. The train wasn't exactly letting out close to Washington, but it was on the way.<p>

I walked up to the ticket booth. The ticket person looked like he graduated high school last year, he had acne, and his face was greasy. Not that I don't get acne or that my face doesn't get greasy, but I just hope that once I graduate high school— Oh no. I just realized; I'm not going to graduate high school. I'm leaving right now, before graduation! I'll never get a job. I'm doomed.

My mental turmoil was cut short by the ticket man clearing his throat. "Um, Miss?"

"Oh, sorry, yes?" I answered completely flustered.

"I asked which train you want to take." He said. His face was void of emotions; I wonder how long his shift is.

My mind wanders for a second; maybe I should just run and go to school, then leave after graduation. No, I could go online and get my GED or complete school where ever I decide to settle down at. I looked up at the trains departing schedules and carefully read out "Lake Shore Limited 449 towards Chicago Union Station, please."

He looked blankly at me then said, "Can I see you're ID, miss?"

"Why?" I don't really want to risk anyone here knowing my name.

"Well, we need your name to put on the ticket and we also have a policy against minors buying long distance tickets without an adult present." He said, paired with a very condescending look.

I reluctantly handed over my ID. I wasn't a minor so I had nothing to worry about, but I really didn't want my name in their system.

After he read my birth date, giving me a slight nod of approval he punched my name in to a ticket printing machine then the contraption printed my ticket. I was soon on my way out of town and to my new beginning.

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><p>Twenty-four hours later I was in Chicago. By now my parents know that I'm gone. I felt accomplished. No longer would fear control my actions. The dimming embers in my chest had been ignited from the space that I now have to breathe and my belly roared with the newly kindled fire. I needed this: adventure, freedom, the ability to exist without living in the confined fish bowl that is what school and home is.<p>

I was somewhat tempted to stay in Chicago for a little and be a stereotypical tourist, but decided against it, partly because everything was so expensive and partly because the train that I wanted to get on was leaving soon.

Once I got on the train I decided to go over my game plan. As the train chugged away from Chicago I began to think about the future. The train was going to go to Seattle which means I could either get an overpriced apartment in Seattle or I could find a small town by La Push. I know for a fact I can't live in La Push because I'm not related to anyone from there, but I hope that there is somewhere to live by the reservation. I know that I have no real reason to want to live by there, but I had set out to go to La Push and I plan to follow through as best as I can.

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><p>I don't know how long I slept but I woke up from someone in the hallway dropping their suite case. I jump in alarm and realize that the majority of the people on the train had cleared out; we must have made it to Seattle. I gather my things and work my way out of the train. Wading through the crowd I navigate my way to the outside world. The city was huge and it was my first time in Seattle. I suddenly became aware that I hadn't showered in two days. Trains didn't really sound that appealing to shower in and I didn't want to leave my backpack unattended. My backpack was the only thing keeping me afloat right now; it had my clothes, money, a nearly empty water bottle, and was now littered with colorful wrappers of food that was long gone.<p>

I had spent the day walking around looking at random buildings and doing really touristy things, but the sun was beginning to go down. I feel panic begin to swallow me. I was foolish to leave home. I'll never survive out here. How far would my money even last me?

I quickly gathered myself when I noticed a person suspiciously eyeing me. I turned and walked the other direction completely away from that person, which totally was not subtle and I probably drew more danger to myself. I quickly decide I was going to go to the main road and grab a taxi. I would take the taxi to a hotel and stay there the night.

After ten minutes of wandering through the streets and realize that I have no idea where I was going. I thought that the main street was where I was, but all I found where a few bars and a tattoo parlor. This was not the flashy main street that I was attuned to. I was lost and it had officially gotten dark. The cool night air gently tugged through my hair. Shivering I drew farther into myself—I knew that I look defenseless and attackable, but I was cold and couldn't help it.

"Hey, kid." I heard someone say, and despite my better judgment I turned to the source of the voice. It was a boy standing by an alley. He looked a little younger than me. In the dark night shade I could still see that he was extremely pale, he held himself in a way that made me irrationally feel like he was lethal. I froze, contemplating if I should just run or not, but this boy seemed like a feral dog that would chase anything if it started to flee.

"Yes?" I respond trying my hardest to hold myself in a strong intimidating manner. I tried to hold my arms stiffly and my chin high, but the wind was unforgiving and blew a harsh gust of frozen air causing me to shiver once more. I could see the boy smirk and he began approaching me. A new wave of panic washes over me and I scan the area for a possible escape route without taking my view away from the boy.

As the boy got closer he seemed even paler than what I previously thought. His eyes were glowing under the street lamp, it was almost a very bright brown, but I couldn't be sure it was still too dark. He was almost to me and I vaguely heard some drunken men from a bar behind me, they must have been leaving; no one, drunk or not, would go out in this weather voluntarily. It had been so warm during the day. I should have brought a jacket; mom was right about something I guess.

A man had slurred out a joke and his companions laughed too loud, I was caught off guard by them and jumped a little. The boy that was steadying approaching me smirked and began to walk faster. I back up a little but tripped on the uneven sidewalk and fell. I heard the drunks laugh at me as they to stumbled down the sidewalk. It seems everyone is the exception in their own mind. I felt a person hovering over me and glanced up. The boy was now less than a foot away, leaning slightly over me, and had his hand out. I reluctantly placed my hand in his and he helped me up. I couldn't help but notice that his hand was really cold, but then again it was cold outside so I shouldn't be that surprised.

"That was quiet the tumble, you alright?" He asked and shot an annoyed glance at the drunken men who had already ventured to the end of the block.

"I'm alright." I say stiffly.

"Back to the reason why I called to you—you look lost." That wasn't a question; I must be a horrible actor, I tried to look like I knew what I was doing. "Do you need directions? Or actually I can just walk you. The streets are dangerous at night."

"Is that a threat or advice?" I ask half joking.

"It's a warning." He says with a dark air.

"Why is it dangerous?" I question idiotically, it's almost like I want to get mugged.

"Tell me where you need to go and I'll explain on the way." He said distractedly.

For a moment I considered asking him to take me to the nearest hotel considering that it's so cold and dark out, but if he's a crazy killer I don't want him to know that: 1) I'm alone and 2) no one knows where I am. I decide to settle with my original plan and say, "Can you just walk me to a main road or busy street, please?"

"Can do." he says with a smile. His teeth unnerve me, they're perfectly straight and white; they're the teeth of a predator.

As we make our way through the shadowy pavement maze that is this city. He's leading the way since I'm the one lost.

He begins to explain why the city's dangerous, "Are you new to the town?" he asks.

"Kind of," I respond. I can't really lie and say no, even if it is the safest thing to do. He knows that I got lost. No one who is not new to a town would get lost as easy as I did.

"I can tell." He says with a chuckle; then continues "This city is having a problem."

"What's the problem?" I probe.

"There have been a lot of deaths and disappearances in the news lately." He says darkly.

"Oh my god," I couldn't help but feel even more nervous about this situation. He could potentially be the killer, I don't know, I've never spoken to him before. "Do they have any idea who is doing this?" I ask.

"Well, if they did, whoever is killing would be stopped." He glances towards me with this 'are you stupid' look on his face.

"I suppose." I sigh.

Are walking a few minutes in silence we got to a busy road. I felt safer now and trusted him a lot more since I know he wasn't luring me in to a dark alley to kill me.

"This is your stop," he says to me.

"Thank you—oh I never got your name." I had spent so much time worry about him potential killing me that I didn't even bother to consider the fact that he is a person with a name and a life.

"I'm Riley," he said and reached out to shake my hand.

"I'm Florence," I say in turn and put my hand in his, it's still cold.

"Well Florence, stay off the street at night. I might not be the one to find you next time."

"I will do. Thank you, Riley." I say with a smile.

Once Riley and I part ways, I catch a taxi, and find a hotel that still has an empty room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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><p><strong>AN: I know that this is boring, chapter two was very bland and this chapter will be too, but I'm in that awkward transition when I'm trying to get the main character to the plot as quickly as possible. (I swear that the stuff going on in these chapters is important though, even if they aren't action packed.) Try and get through this chapter and I promise the next one will be better and longer too (hopefully). Paul will be introduced in the next chapter, but you will have to wait a bit because I have semester tests until December 24th; but I might post before then if I procrastinate studying.<strong>

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><p><em>"But isn't it also that on some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are? We idealize them as gods or dismiss them as animals."<em>

_—Paper Towns-By: John Green _

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><p>I woke with a start. This wasn't my room! Why am I not in my bed?! Then the past days roll over me, I sigh and flop back into the bed, stirring up the smoky smell from the sheets. This entire hotel reeked of stale cigarettes and ammonia, but it was the only thing I could find on short noticed. I finally pulled myself from the stiff blankets and stepped on the sticky carpet. Shuddering I pulled myself back on the bed. I was so worn out yesterday I didn't really notice the smell or the carpet. I mental curse myself and crawl across the bed to grab my shoes and trudged to the bathroom.<p>

Once I had gotten ready for the day, I checked the bruises. The huge one on my stomach was a purple-blue and the outside was a fading yellowy green. That's good, right? The bruise on my face was almost gone, having not suffered as my damage as my stomach had, so I decided that it would be unnecessary to cover it up. Besides, I would just be spending the day making phone calls to realtors so it didn't matter if it was concealed or not.

I grab the phone book from the bed side table. I flip through the pages and found that half of the book is stained through with coffee and the other half was heavily doodled on. I found the real-estate agencies in a transition section between doodle and coffee, the silly faces were smeared into looks of agony from the coffee stain. A black tint covered an advertisement on the page from the pen ink and the coffee combining; two different forces combined to prevent me from seeing something; each force was unaware of the others existence, but they still managed to work together in a way that neither will see nor be aware of.

I pulled myself away from the distracting coffee and pen duo and began pounding away at the key pad of the hotel issued phone, calling realtor after realtor. Finally I found a realtor agency that was willing to talk about houses near the La Push area, or in the Forks area as the lady on the phone told me, apparently there was a small town 15 minutes or so outside of La Push. The lady had also agreed to meet me at her office in an hour.

I quickly threw on my sweat shirt and hurried out of the hotel. I looked back at the hotel once outside and the exterior was just as scary as the interior. The gutter was rusted and looked like it was crumbling off the side of the building. The once tan paint was bleached to a more yellowy color from age and years of weathering had chipped some of it away.

I began walking to the agency, if the phone book was correct it shouldn't be too long of a journey. As I was walking I felt a rain drop hit my forehead. Soon the pavement was spotted and puddles begun to form in the flaws of the side walk. I pulled up my hood and continued to walk. I felt eyes burning into me as I continued on my trek. I picked up my pace and got to the agency faster than I expected. Just before I walked in I hesitated and glanced back to see if anyone was watching me. As I studied the street it seemed everyone was caught up in their own world, unmindful of everyone else. Through the forest of umbrellas I thought I saw someone standing still and facing me, but when I looked again they were gone. Not wanting to get anymore wet, I dismissed the silly notation that someone was watching. I stopped playing with the possibility and pulled the realtor agency door open.

I was lead into a waiting room where I filled out a questionnaire. It covered basic questions that would make it easier to find what house I was looking for. After filling in the price range, ideal location, and ideal beds and baths, the lady was ready to see me.

The lady spoke in a high pitch frequency, which made me think that it wasn't her normal voice, but something she used at work to keep people focused on what she is saying. She wore a red skirt and white blouse. Her hair was tied in a tight bun which made her eye look wide and her magnified, round, glasses didn't help either. She looked strongly like an owl. She sat perched on the edge of a huge office chair behind a big oak desk, shuffling though papers. When I walked in she stopped and stretched her red painted lips in a tight grin.

"Hello." She greeted, "It's nice to meet you, I'm Joanne Smith, but you can call me Jo," she rose and reached out to shake my hand.

I quickly stepped forward, shook it, and then added, "Florence Douglas. It's nice to meet you too."

"So, I understand you are looking to buy some property in the Forks area."

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><p>I was smart when I impulsively took my social security card and birth certificate with me. I needed it to buy a house. After much talking with Jo, I settled for a little cottage a few miles out of La Push. The cottage was fully furnished; apparently the man who had been living there was a recluse and was killed by bears while hiking. Nobody knows who his family is and nobody really spoke to him while he was alive, so the house became state property, but now it was mine. The house didn't have air conditioning or heating (except for a fire place). It did have running water and electricity, so I was going to have to worry about paying utility bills. But all in all the cottage was within my price range and was a good deal considering I won't have to furnish it; it's just creeping to think about using a dead guy's things.<p>

I didn't go to look at the place before I bought it, because I didn't have much choice of housing anyway. I know that I should've looked at what I'm getting myself into but I just couldn't bring myself to. That would mean I would have to travel the two hours to La Push, and then two hours back to sign a papers, and then another two hours back to La Push again. I don't even have a car. It would take more than two hours to walk to La Push and it would take too much money to ride a taxi. I don't want to use all my money on taxi rides; I still need clothes and food, and now with a house I also need to pay taxes and bills. Money is going to be tight. I need a job to balance this all out.

Jo hands me important papers and shoos me out of her office. Her tight lipped face was coming unraveled and she needed to apply more glue before her next client came. I liked the owl. She was so high strung yet tired at the same time, it made me wonder what her life was outside of work. If she lived in a Sunday morning cartoon, she would be the person that reluctantly got caught up in a wacky adventure and worried and complained the whole time.

The rain hadn't stopped while I was with Jo. Grudgingly I stepped out of the lobby and into the gentle shower, pouring from the hazy gray sky. The pace at which the rain was falling was about the same as when it started. The puddles had grown from the continuous fuel and tried to swallow my feet with every step I took. My hood, which I had pulled up, blocked my peripheral vision and muffled my ears considerable. Suddenly I felt someone grab my shoulder. I assuming the worst I spun around prepared to kill an army, but came face to face with Riley.

He lifted his umbrella over the two of us and smiled, "Hey, I was on my way home from work and recognized you. I'm heading the same direction and figured you might want some company?"

"That would be nice." I say. Now that it's not dark, like last night, I can see Riley much better. He was so pale that I couldn't help but wonder if he's sick. His eyes were a bright red, not the brownish-red that I previously believe. When he saw me looking at his eyes he quickly looked away. I felt really shitty, I had made him uncomfortable. He's been only nice to me and I have returned it with apprehension and suspicion.

"So," he says trying to break the awkward silence that I just made, "what are you doing out in the rain without an umbrella anyway?" He asked glancing at me and smirking.

"Obviously I'm going umbrella shopping," I say grouchily. He lets out a short laugh and I smile then add, "I was out buying a house."

"At your age? Funny," he says teasingly, "What were you really doing?"

"I was!" I reply indignantly.

He laughs, "Yah, and I'm making a super army."

"Well you must be, because I'm telling the truth." I say spitefully.

"Not at your age."

"Please, mister, I'm older than you."

"Oh yeah? How old are you."

"Eighteen and you?"

"Eighteen." Oh. He did look younger than me in my defense. I had guessed that he was about sixteen.

"So, where do you live now?" he asked. The rain wasn't letting up any and I think we walked past the hotel a while back. I should start heading back to the hotel. I still need to check out of the hotel and get to the house before five; otherwise the hotel would charge me for another night.

"Oh, the house is a few minutes out of Forks." I say. I'm kind of sad that I won't be staying in Seattle, I didn't want to leave Riley; he was the first person that had treated me like I was a person too.

"Maybe I'll visit you sometime." He says watching my reaction.

"I'd like that." I say with a smile. He was so nice. I have I made a friend? Friendship is such a foreign concept to me. I had spent most of my time doing homework or studying at home that I didn't really have a friend, except for Becky. But that doesn't really count since I was more Becky friend then she was mine… if that even makes sense. "Um, I have to get going. I was hoping to get to the house before night."

"Oh, of course. Wouldn't want a repeat of last night." He replies with a short laugh then pulls out a piece of paper and pen. "Call me when you get settled in," scribbles his number on the paper and hands me it.

Wait, that was pretty flirty, (based on my knowledge from TV). Does he _like_ me? I don't want a relationship. I'm not even romantically attracted to him. Should I tell him I'm not interested in him that way or should I take the number and just pretend he isn't flirting? Ugh, this is why I don't try to make friends. I realize that I'm starting to take too long to reply, so I decide that won't mention the blatant flirting.

"Will do," I say and take his number, "see you around." I move out from under the umbrella and start to put up my hood but then Riley stops me.

"Here take the umbrella." He says holding out for me.

"What? No way, dude. It's your umbrella and you probably have a longer walk than I do." I protest.

"It's fine," He assures me, "I like the rain and I have other umbrellas."

Once I realize that he won't let me leave without the umbrella, I sigh, take it, and say, "You are too nice to me Mister Riley."

He just gives me a cheeky grin and says "Don't forget to call me," and walks away.

His teeth still unnerve me.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry this update took so long to get out; I had some personal things to deal with. I plan to get a posting schedule set up soon and (hopefully) begin updating frequently.<strong>

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><p><em>"They have no rule, but the rule of infantile desire. They have no joys to promise, greater than the joys that belong to your passing life; they have no terrors, but such terrors as the darkness of a Spring night makes." <em>

_—Dream Life: Fable of the Seasons-By: IK Marvel_

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><p>My walk back to the hotel was pretty painless, but I did notice while walking that Riley never took the price tag off the umbrella. I would think that he would've notice the tag wrapped around the handle of the umbrella if he had spent more than five minutes using it; he's strange. Then again, he could just be the type of person who didn't really care.<p>

Once at the hotel I went to my room right away, it was three pm and I didn't want to delay making my way to the house any longer. It wasn't that hard to gather my belongings quickly considering that I only had a backpack full of things to my name. Before I left the room for the last time and checked out of the hotel, I did a once over of the room not wanting to forget anything. Once I was satisfied that I hadn't forgotten anything vital, I was ready to leave. On my way out of the room I saw something out of the corner of my eye and jumped. Someone was in here with me. Fear jolted through me and I looked back at the person, but realized it was a mirror. I was so windblown, damp, dirty, and tired that I hadn't even recognized myself. A laugh torn from my throat, it bounced off the walls and back at me. The laugh was empty; my reflection copied me in a mocking way, its eyes—or rather my eyes showed no happiness. It was just my reflection and I; and out of the two of us, neither had a friend. I know that I had Riley, but something was off about him. Besides, I won't be seeing him for a while considering that I won't be able to go back to Seattle until I had the money to make another trip. I sigh at my reflection and my reflection replied with apathy. I turn away from myself and left the hotel.

I reluctantly hailed a taxi and asked if they were willing to drive me to La Push. The driver hesitantly agreed. The first half of the ride we talked, but I can't remember about what. It was just idle chit-chat, nothing meaningful or profound; it just past in one ear and out the other. The only reason we talked for an hour was due to our reluctance to settle into silence. Eventually we ran out of topics of small talk, so the man turned on the radio and began flicking through channels. After a few minutes of unrest, switching between commercials and static, he resorted to an advertisement about cars. There was nothing better to hear, so we agreed with an unspoken 'why not?' The overzealous voice actor talked spoke about some car that I've never heard of and tried to convince me to buy it. Once that commercial was through, another one began; advertisements seemed to be in an endless supply these days.

Eventual the car pulled to a stop in front of the house that I had been shown. The house wasn't picture perfect anymore; the grass had begun consuming the front steps and dandelions had sprung up in the yard, but it wasn't anything some yard work couldn't fix. I stiffly pulled myself from the taxi, paid the man, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. The man pulled away from my drive way and waved goodbye, I waved back, and then he was out of my life forever.

I walked down a gravel path to my front door and pulled on the door, but it didn't budge. Confused I pulled again, but then remembered that locks need keys. Producing my key I slid it in the brass knob and heard the mechanism click. I twisted the knob, shoved the door, and it still didn't open. Shit. Jiggling the door in frustration I saw that the door moved a little. The door must've warped from the moisture, hot air, and the prolonged disuse. I was just slightly too weak to shake the door open. In hopes that the door would magically open when I later, I decided to explore the exterior of the house.

I ambled slowly into the backyard, it lead straight into the forest. I shivered. Darkness had fallen quickly and it was even darker in the forest from the trees blocking out the little light from the stars. I walked through the grass to the edge of the forest, only to stumble and fall in to the trunk of a tree. I walk back to the spot in the grass that I had stumbled over and found a rusted out watering can. My stomach turned as I was forced to remember that this was a dead man's watering can. It was an odd location to leave a watering can, at the edge of the forest. I quickly dismissed my curiosity assuming that the wind had blown it there. Eerie howls echoed through the forest. I jump a little and I moved away from the watering can and forest. I silently vowed to landscape in the morning.

I finally found my way to the back door of the house, luckily this door opened. I breathed in the stale air of the house, it smelled like old furniture. I didn't investigate the house at all. I found the living room first and immediately decided that was where I was sleeping tonight. I flopped down on to the couch and embrace sleep.

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><p>I woke to glass breaking. Assuming the worst I reached for my cellphone to call the police. Ice gripped my heart; I had left my phone at my parent's house. I thought I was being clever when I had left it, they wouldn't be able to track me down; now I just feel stupid. I live in the middle of nowhere and don't have a phone. I got off of the couch and search around for something heavy for protection, settling for a lamp after not finding anything better. The lamp was a deep red and I couldn't help but fear that my blood would match the color perfectly once I get killed by this invader.<p>

There was another thump this time I pin pointed the location of the sound; it had come from the kitchen. I froze, my breathing shallow, I couldn't help but wonder if the intruder could hear my heart pounding because it was so loud. As quietly as possible I padded into the kitchen keeping the lamp in front of me as if it would somehow protect me. Once I fully enter the kitchen I look around for anything out of place, besides the broken vase, there was nothing. I looked at the clock on the microwave; it was two in the morning.

And as if my inner cliché horror movie person came out I say, "Hello?" Out of the corner of my eye I saw something in the shadows move and then it flew out and grabbed my leg. I screamed and fell with a painfully thump on to my back. The lamp fell beside me useless and whatever had attacked me had jumped off frightened. I was still very flustered and panicked so I dragged myself along the ground backwards as to not take my eyes off what had jumped on me. Once I hit the wall I pulled myself to my feet and my hand felt for and found the light switch. Flicking it on, I establish that the invader had been a black cat.

The cat looked thin; was it the previous owner's cat? Could he have been locked up in here the whole time without food? I brushed the idea off remembering that some form of government people had to clean up this house and the real-estate agency has also been in here. The cat must of came in here through an open window. The cat looked hungry. I step over the glass and lamp and began checking all of the cupboards searching for food that was left, but as I feared, they had clear out all of the food as a precaution in case it was rotten.

I sigh and watch the cat walk around the room. After a moment I decide that in the morning I will have to, 1) explore the house so I can, 2) shut the window, then go to the store so I can, 3) get some cat food for the would-be home invader. I felt slightly guilty for not getting the cat some food right away, but the fact it had scared me numbed my concern. I picked up the lamp, placed it in its designated spot, and I returned to the couch to fall asleep.

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><p>I woke less dramatically than earlier that morning, it was a nice change of pace; the sunlight burning my eyes was almost welcoming. I roll out of my makeshift bed and throw on a fresh set of clothes. I wandered through the house being tailed by a little black cat. I ended up finding a window in the bathroom that was cracked open just enough for the cat to squeeze through, after shutting it I gathered up my money and left the house.<p>

By the time I walked to La Push it was around one in the afternoon, I had slept in pretty late and spent a bit of time playing with the cat. I had considered going to Forks rather than La Push, but decided against it because La Push is closer to the house. I didn't really know where anything was in La Push so I walked around town hoping that I would have a stroke of luck and stumble upon the grocery store. Luckily I didn't die of starvation before I found the store, considering that I hadn't eaten anything for a while.

The store was small and quaint, very fitting for the reservation. I trek the rest of the way to the store and barely got through the main entrance when a person bumped into me. This person must have been a brick wall because I didn't even have a chance to stumble backwards, it was like gravity strengthened. I slammed into the ground and reflexively tightened the muscles in my stomach which hurt a lot because, surprisingly enough, it's not advisable to over exert muscles that are bruised.

I glanced up at the living wall and he sheepishly offered his hand to me. "Sorry," he said.

I grinned and took his hand. He immediately whisked me up to a standing position, "No, It's my fault. I zoned out."

I think he was about to apologize to me again, but he was cut off by a shout from the parking lot, "Damn it Seth, 'hurry' doesn't mean assault a stranger."

Seth, apparently, smiled awkwardly at me and muttered, "Sorry," and rushed away.

I turned to see who had yelled and my eyes met another's. He froze and stared at me, his face had a look of awe, I quickly glanced behind me to see what he was looking at but it was just an ordinary store. I look back at him, he was tall, native, shirtless, and looked very similar to Seth except the he looked older. He immediately snapped out of whatever trance like state he was in and his eyes narrowed. Wait. He narrowed his eyes at me? Why was he even staring at me? What was happening? He grabbed Seth by the arm and immediately pulled them away from the store and to the forest. I don't know what was happening.

Flustered I turn away from the forest and realized how weird that must have seemed to onlookers, but surprisingly enough no one gave the exchange a second glance. I suppose it makes sense considering the interaction was very subtle. I quickly finish up my shopping for the day, I successfully found the cat and myself food, as well as a few extra things that I needed.

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><p>By the time I got home the sun was setting and I decided to fix up the garden a little, even if that means working in the dark, I was just paranoid the other night. I walk through the yard and pick up rocks, twigs, and other miscellaneous things from the ground, so I can mow the lawn. I pick up two things of interest, the watering can that I had found last night and a torn fabric.<p>

The fabric was small and hard to spot in the tangled weeds at the edge of the forest. The cloth was a stretchy shirt material that was previously white but the edge had been tinted with a brown color; upon further inspection I found that what I had believed to be dried mud, was actually blood. In alarm I dropped the blooded material, my stomach lurched, and I proceed to dry heave. The man that had live here must have died really close and I've touched his blood. For a moment I felt compelled to call someone, maybe the police, to take it away, or look at it, or something; but I couldn't bring myself to do so. It just seemed so pointless to call the police. They already know that the previous owner is dead and they also know what happened. The case is closed; I need to let the dead stay dead.

I don't know how but I suddenly felt terrified standing outside, in the dark. I blindly stared into the forest and the forest stared back, it was so dark in there, anything could be hiding. I slowly bent down, not taking my eyes away the trees, and snatched the cloth off the ground. I sprinted back to the cabin clutching to the watering can and the cloth. Once I reached the house I torn the door open and slammed it shut behind me causing the cat jolt up and flee from the room.

I placed the cloth in the watering can and the watering can on the coffee table. I flopped back on the couch and carefully watched the watering can. I don't know how long I watched it but at some point I fell asleep and my dreams were plagued with the beautiful stranger that hated me.


End file.
